


What is Wanting

by Caliginous_Confused, Ilyen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dragons, Fantasy AU, Hanzo's bad at trusting people, M/M, McCree's a monster hunter and a witch, McHanzo - Freeform, Minor Blood and Gore, SO ANYWAY I MIGHT WRITE MORE CHAPTERS FOR THIS, also he lost a dragon, elf hanzo, its a pretty self contained story but i have ideas, shenaningins happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15751182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caliginous_Confused/pseuds/Caliginous_Confused, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilyen/pseuds/Ilyen
Summary: Jesse is a monster hunter with a bit of dark magic. Hanzo has lost a dragon, and someone else.





	What is Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the McReverseBang. Moira's the main villain in this :D
> 
> There is probably a million typos because I waited WAAAAY to long to start editing.
> 
> hi I'm the world's slowest writer, the end. Huge thank you to Caliginous who put up with my last minute everything. [ Here's the link!](http://caliginous-confused.tumblr.com/post/177224203849/so-i-had-the-pleasure-of-also-doing-the-mcbigbang)

It’s damp.

McCree hates it. It’s his second most hated thing, right after total darkness. So caves, being _both_ damp, dark and cold _should_ be the last place he would be.

Carefully, he feels for another handhold, leather gloves slick against the stone, his face pressed to the rock. From below his tenuous perch another piece of shale flakes away. He can hear it bounce against a rock before a final faint splash of water.

Great. So if he did fall, _again,_ it probably wouldn’t kill him.

_If only you'd be so lucky._

He ignores that thought. His fingers finally find purchase in a crack, and he carefully shifts his weight to that arm. Nothing gives and seemingly secured he pulls his other foot away from the wall, feeling for another toehold. Much harder to do with booted feet than fingers, especially in the low light of the cavern.

He hadn’t fallen too far, really. Just a peak, he’d said, only a little ways in. Dragon sign should be easy to spot, and that old man in the village had been utterly convinced it was taking shelter here. Nevermind that as cold-blooded as they are, wyrms, drakes, or any other type of dragon didn’t particularly care for damp caverns. They were more often found on granite hillsides or sandy levees, basking in midday sunlight. _Especially_ this far north and this late in the year.

This cave, with mucky entrance and stagnant air, wouldn’t be home to a dragon unless the creature was injured or desperate. Yet the villagers had insisted he check, and it was better to be safe than sorry, and a million other “what-ifs” that he wanted to put to rest before dismissing it all entirely.

He should have trusted his gut.

Irrelevant now, as he still has several feet before he makes it back to flat ground. He had been lucky, though. The floor had appeared to be gently sloping, and he hadn’t seen the literal pitfall under his feet, stumbling forward as he stepped out in open space, down a sort narrow chute. So it was more of a steep slide than a fall, the sides of the chute narrow enough that with quick reflexes he was able to wedge himself to stop plummeting downwards. Just a lot farther down than he started. As it was his sudden drop had caused him to lose his torch, though with his heart hammering in his ears he hadn’t heard it land.

It really is dark, especially without the torch. There’s the faintest bit of light from where he came into the stupid cave to begin with, but the sun was dropping and he was going to lose that too soon enough. All the more reason to climb faster, get out of here, and head right back to the goddamned village miles back and give that old festering grandfather a piece of his mind for sending him out on a wild goose chase. He hauls himself a little bit higher, motivated by that thought alone.

Under his fingers, he feels the tiniest shift and his heart clenches. Jesse forces himself to take a steady breath, checking once more just how much distance he has left to cover.

In the darkness above him, two eyes, faintly luminous, blink.

To his credit, he doesn’t jump, doesn’t even scream, instead freezing still. He can only see the vaguest outline in the low light, something humanoid.

Thankfully instead of leaving him to wonder, the owner of said eyes speaks. “Of course, it would only be a human making all this noise.”

That voice, male and rough, could belong to anyone, but the tone of pure conceit marks the owner as an elf. For a heartbeat, Jesse considers just letting himself fall. Only for a second.

“Right,” Jesse says instead, forcing a grin. “Seem to have found myself in a rough spot. Mind helping me out?”

A long-suffering sigh answers him, and the eyes disappear. Now that he’s listening he can hear the whisper light footfalls that mark the elf’s passing, retreating away from him followed by silence.

“Hey?” Jesse calls. “You really ain’t just gonna leave me, are you?”

Nothing besides the echo of his own words.

“Shit.” He mutters, once again trying to find another handhold. “‘Dunno what I was expecting, really, none of them could ever be bothered to so much as piss on someone if they were on fire-”

He nearly falls once more as something thick and long and heavy strikes him in the face, and it’s only as it slips past him does he realize it’s a rope.

“I don’t have all evening, human. I will not pull you.”

* * *

 

Outside the cave, the human breathes a heavy sigh of relief. A long cloak, ragged and worn, hides most of his build. Shaggy brown hair tied loosely back and an unkempt beard frame his face. An eyepatch hides one eye, complete with gaudy hand painted skull on the leather. Like most humans, he’s taller than Hanzo. And, like most humans, the man looks like he was dragged through the mud by a large cow recently.

Hanzo has already wasted enough time with this farce. The human is safe, his conscience (however fickle) could rest, and he has a dragon to find. He turns and starts to walk away, content to leave the man be.

“Wait,” A hand on his shoulder stops him. “You didn’t even let me say thank you!”

“Not necessary.” Gingerly Hanzo removes the human’s hand “And I must be going now.”

“Not necessary?” The man doesn’t catch the clear dismissal, cutting around in front of Hanzo’s path. A crooked smile crosses his face, and he meets Hanzo’s gaze directly.

“You’re welcome,” Hanzo says flatly, attempting to step around him.

“You pretty much saved my life, friend. It’d be poor manners for me not to repay you.” The human follows a mere step away, cloak catching in the scrub brush that lines the deer trail. “‘I have some dried venison and found some good mushrooms earlier, I can cook you something to eat if you’d like, no trouble at all.”

“No thanks.” It’s all he can do to not roll his eyes. “Go home, human, lest my efforts were in vain.”

“Ooch, you’re a little nippy ain't you.” The man scratches his beard his smile dropping a fraction of an inch. “‘Sides, can’t go home if I wanted, I’m working out here.”

Hanzo pauses, eyes narrowing. Working? He scrutinizes the human again. The crossbow on his back and thick quarrels on his belt look no more deadly than any other human villager’s weapons. He’d assumed the man was a farmer who got lost tracking deer, not a _Hunter_.

“Some mighty big dragon is raising hell all over this region, and I’m here to stop it.” His smile grows wider and he chuckles. “Figured you’re the same, mister elf. You ain't afraid of a little friendly competition are you?”

“Friendly..competition…” The words twist in Hanzo’s mouth. “With _you_. Who I just pulled out of a moldy cave.”

“Yeah, hah, suppose that didn’t look too professional.” The human shrugs, offering his hand. “Hence why I’m saying thank you. I’m Jesse McCree, by the way.”

Hanzo glances down at the proffered hand. If this man was a Hunter like he claimed, then he should really just throw him right back into the cavern he found him in. The fall probably wouldn't actually kill him.

Then from above, a sharp screech tears through the forest.

_Inazuma._

The dragon flies so close that the wind from his passing causes the trees to shake. Flickers of elemental energy follow in the dragon’s wake, white and blue crackles against the twilight sky.

Arashi, hidden away in the hood of Hanzo’s own cowl, trills in response.

A chain is coiled around Inazuma’s neck, broken links edged red in fading sunlight. Underneath is a gaping wound, bloodied and torn.

Eastward again, always east, and never stopping.

Movement beside him-the Hunter has leveled his crossbow, standing tall and upright. Hanzo hadn't even seen him draw it, distracted by the dragon’s passing. The man is silhouetted by the same dying sunlight, seeming to glow as the last rays edge below the horizon.

If the human is even halfway competent with his weapon then he cannot possibly miss.

 _No_.

Hanzo tackles the man, shouldering into his back and knocking him off his feet. The crossbow twangs as the bolt is released, and Inazuma roars.

“What the hell-!” He hears the man yell.

Hanzo runs, leaving the hunter in the dirt. The dragon keeps flying, and he follows.

* * *

 

“Fucking crazy ass elf.”

Jesse brushes dirt from his clothes, picking his way down the hill and into thicker forest. The dragon was heading mostly east, so that’s the direction he goes, and fully expects to find half-eaten elf pieces somewhere along the way. It’s getting far too dark to safely walk, even with the waxing moon above. He’ll have to make camp, the sooner the better.

Like many Hunters, Jesse has his tricks, and despite what some snooty, jealous elves think he is damn good at his job. Unless some asshole decides to tackle him when he's trying to shoot something. Jesse grunts, and rubs at his eyepatch, a headache starting to build in the space behind the socket.

_The price you pay._

The elf must of been mad he was going to down the dragon first. It had crested the hill and practically buzzed them, close enough that he could see the remnants of a chain wrapped around its neck. Jesse doubts whoever trapped it was still alive, considering the dragon was still free and very angry.

Shouldn’t have tried to thank an elf. Even as pretty as that one had been.

Well, if the elf ended up dragon chow then it served him right.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo huffs and continues hiking. It’s midmorning now, cold sunlight filtering through the canopy of the forest. A crisp breeze carries the scent of autumn, the change in season only serving of a reminder as to just how long he’s been following Inazuma.

From the perch on his shoulder, Arashi trills a warning, and Hanzo drops into a still crouch.

A sharp crack echoes throughout the quiet, birds stilling. Eyes darting, he finds a briar to serve as cover and settles down into the brush to wait.

“--it tore apart that mercenary in moments. The creature is strong.” The first voice, female and clipped, catches the edge of his hearing.

“I do not care.” The second voice is softer, and the accent of a drow. “Talon wants it dead. We will make it so.”

Hanzo grimaces. First, the idiot hunter and now Talon are tracking his dragon. If Overwatch showed up next then he was really fucked.

Arashi settles his claws against the skin in his shoulder, unable to fade completely but hidden well enough. He had no choice but to wait out the team of Talon hunters. He did not need to get into an unnecessary fight, not now.

They pass within meters of his hiding spot.  Dressed in a heavy cloak and full length sleeves, the drow is easy to discern. Even her hands are wrapped, since she would be unable to stand exposure to sunlight. On her back, she carries a longbow, the wood blackened  and inlaid with red filigree. Black feathered arrows sit in the quiver that hangs at her waist.

Lanky and tall, the other woman trails a few steps behind her companion. Her posture ramrod straight and her hood is down her back, revealing red short cropped hair. Leaves wither as she passes, sickly magic draining into her skin, her right arm marred by dark magic.

All Witches bear some sort of corruption, a sign of the blood contract they made with a demon in exchange for power. They were all incredibly powerful, hard to kill, and the last thing anyone should make an enemy of.

Hanzo doesn’t dare to move. They will not hesitate to destroy anyone who interfers with their hunt.

The drow continues on, none the wiser. The witch stops, her eyes forward.

"Moira," The drow says. "We must hunt."

Slowly, Moira's head turns, her eyes-one red, one blue, pierce him.

Hanzo can’t breathe- inky magic snakes from her fingertips and his muscles seize as tendrils of angony course through him. Arashi drops from his shoulder, his grip faltering as the magic drains his master.

“Someone is here.” The witch says, her voice lilting. “Interesting, indeed.”

* * *

 

Jesse feels the energy of the magic first. The sense is strong, a draw he feels pulsing in his arm and eye more than anything else.

Northeast, less than a quarter mile. Another witch, and this far into the frontier, that probably meant  another hunter. The list of who fits that bill is short; Jesse only knows a handful of others besides himself.

Angela’s magic is warmer, Lucio’s feels like a song, and he’d never mistake Reaper’s.

His mouth twisting, Jesse readies his crossbow and plunges into the wood.

Sheltered deer trail opens to a rural footpath, leading to a rocky granite overhangs and scrub brush. Cautiously he circles the source of magic, wary of approaching directly. As he gets closer he begins to practically crawl, each footstep carefully placed.

Voices soon reach his ears. Two of them he recognizes.

“...So very far from home, elf.”

 _Moira O'Deorain._ A sympathetic twinge of pain shoots behind his eye and he grits his teeth. Her presence was always an ill omen.

“Could say the same to you, witch.”

Sounding worse for wear is the same elf from last night. Jesse creeps forward another few inches, easing rough juniper branches aside. Just meters below him is a hooded figure,  all skin hudden, perhaps a drow. Further away is Moira, facing away and completely focused on the elf kneeling in the dirt.

“What do you seek?” Moira continues. She waves her hand and inky purple threads of magic flow from the elf’s skin. His jaw twitches, sweat beading on his forehead.

Jesse knows from experience just how painful Moira’s magic can be.

“Fhew-”  Clearly defiant, the he  still spits at her face instead of answering. 

“Sadly, as much as I am intrigued by you, we simply do not have time to waste.” Moira sighs, wiping away the offending material from her face. “Widow, kill him.”

Jesse’s heard enough.

In the span of a heartbeat, he stands straight. Deep within his power boils, red and hot, the burning focuses on his eye behind the patch. Before his gaze, the faces of his enemies seem to melt away. Red skulls are revealed behind the flesh.

_Kill them for me._

Moira is the most dangerous, he targets her first. He pulls the trigger, the crossbow fires, he knows the bolt will catch her in the back of the head.

For the second time in as many days, Jesse misses.

Wisping black smoke fills the space where she had just been standing and his shot sinks into the bark above the elf’s head. Widow melds into the shadow, silent as a ghost. Cursing, Jesse reloads, cranking back the wire.

“ _McCree_.” Moira’s voice hisses in the clearing , cold disdain marking her words. “This fight isn't worth it.”

He focuses again, spinning to find any target. They’re gone.

“Fucking traitor.” Jesse lowers his weapon and immediately blinding pain settles behind his eye. He grinds the heel of his palm against the eyepatch but it doesn't help, so he waits for it to settle from ‘tree branch being driven into his brain’ to somiething more manageable, like a spike. After a moment it lessens, and he turns his attention back to the elf he just saved.

“Human.” The elf rasps, still on hands and knees in the dirt. “I believe..we are even now.”

“You’re welcome,” Jesse says, clamoring down the rock face.

He makes his way over to the elf. Moira’s specialty was draining energy. The elf's limbs are shaking, his eyes bloodshot and face pale.

He extends his hand again, intending to help the other man stand. “And I told you, the names Jesse.”

For a moment, the elf pauses, staring at Jesse’s outstretched palm. Haltingly, with no lack of tremble in his fingers, he takes Jesse’s hand.

“I...am Hanzo. Shimada Hanzo.” 

* * *

 

Hanzo sits close to the edge of the campfire. After his run in with the witch, the warmth is welcome.

The human, McCree, had to help him to his feet after that encounter. McCree had insisted that Hanzo “take a breather” while he made camp. At first, Hanzo had attempted to brush him off, right until his knees had buckled and he’d nearly face planted into the dirt. He barely had the presence of mind to scoop Arashi off the ground and tuck him into his pack, disguising the movement as adjusting the weight distribution of his gear.

After that he’d sat while McCree had started a fire, eventually dozing off. McCree had let him sleep, only waking him after night had fallen. The smell of roasting meat makes his stomach rumble and McCree hands him a skewer of rabbit. Arashi is still asleep, hidden away in the bottom of his pack. His dragon needs the rest as much as Hanzo did.

“Thank you.” Hanzo says, after taking several bites. Though half burnt and thin, the food seems like the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Don’t mention it.” McCree waves his hand. “Believe me I know how much facing down a witch like that sucks.”

“Still, you didn’t have to help. Especially after last time.”

McCree shrugs. “Yeah, but I did anyway. Fellow Hunter and all.”

Hanzo lasps back into silence. Perhaps it was best if McCree assumed he was just another hunter, and the man clearly possessed a bit of skill. If Talon was closing in on Inazuma too, it wouldn’t hurt to have an ally. Especially one that seemed to have experience with witches. He sighs, chewing slowly as he thinks. It was a witch that was to blame for Inazuma's separation in the first place. Horrible people, all of them.

“So how long have you been following this monster?” McCree is looking at him from across the fire, waiting for him to respond.

“...Several weeks now.” Hanzo gives himself a small shake, trying to dismiss his thoughts. 

“Sounds ‘bout right. I heard of sightings for big blue here a couple ‘o months back up North. Funny though, for a dragon this size to pop outta nowhere.” McCree leans back, hands on his crossed knees. “Usually they come down up from the South, or juveniles cause havoc by the coast ‘fore getting chased inland.”

Hanzo nods. “I am not sure myself. I only know that every time I get close to this dragon, there’s always someone interfering.”

“Like Talon?” McCree huffs. “Those assholes are everywhere.”

“Small time hunters like yourself,” Hanzo replies, though he says it with a grin, doing his best to be more conversational. “Or the Deadeye.”

McCree’s stills, eyebrows quirking. “Yeah, heard he's a real jerk, that guy.”

“Do you know of him?” Hanzo asks, and McCree shrugs.

“Can’t say that I do. Why, what do the rumors say?”

Hanzo has to refrain from rolling his eyes. Almost every other Hunter he’d run across had spoken of the Deadeye in near legendary terms. Perhaps Deadeye was a witch too. Or more likely just a talented Hunter whose reputation had gotten out of hand.

“No one is sure just who, or even what, he is." Hanzo elaborates. "I have heard that he's tall and charismatic, but also terrifying. Extraordinarily skilled. Stories of his talents vary- he can disappear into shadow, he can charm a devil, he can see the heart of every mortal; that is just some of what I've been told.”

To his surprise, McCree starts to chuckle, clearly amused .

Hanzo frowns at him. “It’s true.”

McCree waves his hand, still with a shit eating grin on his face . “Sure, sure I believe you. This guy can totally do all that. That ain’t a load of bull.”

“Well, you're probably right.” Hanzo amends. The rumors were only rumors, after all. “But they do all agree on one point. The Deadeye _never_ misses”

McCree guffaws, laughter ringing out into the night .“Not ever?” His voice is choked, and he seems to wipe at his eyes. “Hah, now I definitely don’t believe you.”

Hanzo huffs, twisting the skewer of rabbit in his fingers. “Well, maybe if you’ve listened to the stories you’d agree.”

* * *

They from a tentative alliance, still tracking the same dragon a week and a half later. Jesse doesn't much care one way or another, used to both working on a team or solo, but he can admit the companionship is a nice. Even if it’s someone as sullen at Hanzo.

On a the bright side, the elf’s skills more than make up for his attitude, and that’s proven when they are ambushed by a group bandits, one of the ever-present dangers of wandering on the borders of the frontier. In the aftermath of the skirmish three men lay dead at their feet, and several more went running, most with Hanzo's arrows sticking out of them.

“You are skilled with that crossbow,” Hanzo yanks one of his arrows from the chest of a dead man. “You didn’t miss a single shot- _what_ the hell are you doing?”

Jesse shoots him a look, fingers slipping on the man’s bloodied buckle. “He’s got nicer armor than what I’m wearing, so I’m taking it. What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”

Hanzo’s face scrunches in sheer horror. “You are planning on wearing that? He’s covered in blood!”

“Yeah, and your point? His armor’s still good, he took a crossbolt to the face not the gut.” Jesse rolls the man so he’s now facedown in the dirt, looking for the last set of buckles. “He’s ‘bout my size, look at ‘im.”

“He’s dead. He died in that and bled all over it, and you are going to put it on?”

“That’s what I said.” With a grunt, he finally pulls the last strap free and starts pulling the armour over the corpse’s shoulders. “Looks new even, the leather ain’t hardly worn.”

The body is reluctant to part from the armor, with each tug he only succeeds in dragging the body further along in the dirt.

“Han, hold his feet so I can get this damn thing off.”

“You’re serious.” Hanzo crosses his arms, making no move to help. “I cannot believe you.”

“Shit ain’t cheap,” Jesse tugs once more, the dead man’s arms flopping. “You gonna help me or not?”

“Corpse armor. I am traveling with someone who willingly wears corpse armor.” Hanzo rubs his palms at his face. “My brother was right, I really have fallen from grace.”

Jesse sticks his tongue out at him.

 

* * *

 

Early morning chirping of birds wakes him, and Jesse blearily blinks in the low dawn light. Frost coats the grass inches from his face while further out the remains of their campfire smolder. Hanzo is a lump beyond that, buried in his own cloak and turned away, only his long ears distinguishing were his head lays.

_Rise and shine, witch._

Jesse stifles a yawn, once more ignoring the voice in his head. Wrapping his own coat around him, he sits up, then reaches for his pack.

Pearlescent blue, coiled, something is nestled inside.

He draws his knife, reflexes faster than his thoughts.

Snake? No, there’s a ridge of fur down it’s back, and long whiskers. He stares, his sleep addled brain trying to rationalize what he’s seeing- it looks just like a dragon, only far, far too small.

The little dragon raises its head, opening both eyes to reveal a gaze just a startling blue as it’s coat. It sees him watching, tilting its head quizzically, and chirps.

The sound draws a response from Hanzo across the way, who appears to reach out and pat blindly at his blankets, muttering what sounds like reassurances and still quite clearly mostly asleep.

Jesse reaches for his pack. The little dragonling offers no protest. Slipping his hand underneath the bag and picking it up slowly so as not to disturb the critter, he raises the dragon to his face get a better look. Curiously, there isn’t much weight to the animal, and it seems almost translucent, it’s coils nestled on top of each other.

The dragon chirps again, louder this time, and he sees a glimpse of small white teeth, needle thin.

“Shush, Shi,.... you’ll wake the hunter….” Hanzo mumbles now, turning back over in his blankets, pulling the cloak over his face. “‘’S too early to rise.”

“Ohh, you’re his pet, ain’t you?” Jesse whispers, realization dawning. “Well, ain’t that something.”

It’s almost cute. The dragonling tilts its head the other way, blinking curiously at him. Slipping the straps of his pack over his arm, he offers the creature a change to sniff at his fingers. It scents curiously at each individual knuckle and his palm before tucking its head right into his hand, clearly looking for a pat.

“Wonder why he didn’t mention you, little one?” He tells it softly. “Cause I’m a Hunter?”

It seems content with his hand rubbing along the ridge of fur. Despite the oddly faint appearance, it certainly feels solid, each scale clearly palpable under his fingertips. He moves to scratching under it’s chin, and the dragonling starts to vibrate, the sound just like a cat. Jesse can’t help but chuckle while keeping up his one sided conversation.

“Oh, so you like that? Never seen one of you this close before, cute little thing. Have you seen a big version of you running around, little guy?” Jesse slowly starts to break camp, starting with rolling his bedroll. The dragonling keeps it’s head out of his pack, watching curiously as he works.

“Right, time we get on the move, time to wake the cranky one of us. Wish your master was as friendly as you.” He sets his pack aside so he can tie his bedroll down, lifting the canvas where the dragonling has nested. “You’ll have to move buddy, I need my bag back.”

The dragon chirps, then darts forward and settles around his shoulder. Jesse turns his head to look at his new hitchhiker, reaching up to scratch under its chin. “Long as you’re comfy.”

With a yawn and stretch, Jesse stands. Hanzo hasn’t shown any signs of wakefulness, so Jesse leans over and shakes his shoulder. “Morning, Hanzo.”

He gets a noncommittal grunt as an answer, the same as every morning.

“Found something of yours, by the way.”

“Wha-” Hanzo finally sits up, squinting at him.

Jesse holds his arm out where the dragon has wrapped its tail. “Didn’t know you had a pet.”

“Arashi!” Hanzo’s eyes go wide and he leaps to his feet. “Unhand him this instant! If you’ve hurt him I will flay you as you stand-”

“Whoah, whoah!” Jesse cuts him off, waving his hands in surrender.“It’s fine, we’re friends, look!”

Hanzo’s pose shifts, though his glare remains. Curiously, it’s not Jesse it’s focused on, but his hitchhiker. The dragonling, Arashi, tosses his head as if he’s being lectured for several long minutes.

“Hand him over.”

Jesse reaches up, gently wrapping a hand around Arashi’s lanky body. The dragon chirps, clearly irritated, and as he tries to pull it free he feels it’s claws sink into his shirt.

“Don’t think he wants to go, Han, sorry.”

Hanzo purses his lips, nose scrunching. From the corner of his eye, Jesse sees Arashi very deliberately curls his head against his neck.

“ _Fine_ , Arashi, stay in the dirty corpse armor.” Hanzo throws his hands into the air. “When we go home, I am bathing you till your scales fall off.”

“It ain’t that dirty,” Jesse mutters to his new friend, taking a quick sniff at himself. A little….traveled, but not rotten. Really.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks on the road with the Hunter, and three weeks with no sighting of Inazuma. They keep traveling eastward, stopping at the small mining towns that dot the mountains. Villagers and tradesmen speak in hushed tones of roaring and lightning, and one talks of how Talon hunters had just passed through days before. McCree exchanges looks with him at that, and Hanzo’s own worry makes his stomach turn.

It snows that day. Wet, heavy snowflakes that soaks into their cloaks and breeches. They melt as soon as they land, the ground still warm enough that it doesn't accumulate, instead just making the leaf litter slippery and treacherous. McCree’s cheeks and nose are red, every few steps he grumbles and pulls at his hood. Hanzo’s own ears are freezing but he refuses to be the first to stop. Arashi currently is riding with him, happy to be allowed freedom.

“Fuck it.” Several miles later McCree grunts. “I ain’t camping out in this shit tonight. There’s another village ‘fore the pass, probably only a few miles outta our way. I know there’s an inn there and I want a warm bread and blankets tonight.”

Hanzo pulls his cloak tighter. On one hand, the idea of a fire and shelter sounded good. On the other, Talon was closer to Inazuma then they were.

“I will keep on the tack.”

“Hanzo, come on. It ain’t far, don’t you want a real meal? ‘There’s plenty of time to freeze tomorrow.” McCree flexes his hands in his gloves. “And you never know, that’s one of the last places to stop before you cross The Ridgeback, so if Talon made an appearance they’ll know.”

He wavers, unsure, and McCree seems to sense it. “Did I mention there’s a bathhouse on the property? Heated and everything?”

His once bright armor is dingy and travel worn, dust and mud clinging to the edge of his cloak. His hair, tied back, is in desperate need of a wash as well, the small streams and creeks they crossed not large nor warm enough to warrant any real bathing.

“Fine,” Hanzo says. “Lead the way.”

McCree is right about the village being not too far, they arrive in under two hours. It’s a typical mining town, one main road the wends down the hillsides towards more traveled paths, a handful of sturdy utilitarian buildings clustered around a small square, and a lonely inn. There’s a stable attached, and a second building that McCree assures him is the bath.

McCree stops him at the threshold, one hand on the door. “The innkeeper is a good friend of mine, but just warning- Rein’s kinda loud.”

Hanzo nods. At this point his willing to put up with anything for a chance at the bath. They open the door and step inside.

“Jesse McCree! If mine own eyes do not deceive me!” A large man, perhaps some sort of half-giant by his size alone, holds his arms wide. He’s missing an eye and his hair is white with age, but his smile is friendly. “The Deadeye is back to visit!”

"You-" Hanzo’s jaw drops. “ _You’re_ The Deadeye?!”

McCree winks, a smirk on his lips. “You had a secret dragon, so can’t be mad at me for keeping secrets too.”

 

* * *

 

“I still cannot believe that you are the Deadeye.” Hanzo huffs. “You let me looks like a fool.”

“Hey, I wasn’t going to argue with you. I don’t think you would have believed me anyhow.”

"Probably not, " Hanzo laughs. "I always imagined him as a tall, clean shaven man. Handsome, of course. Dressed in black leather, and with eyes that glow red." 

"Nope." Jesse holds his arms out, then bows dramatically. "The legendary Deadeye wears corpse armor and gets lost in caves, sorry."

Arashi settles onto Jesse’s shoulders as thet talk, and idly he reaches up to scratch at the dragonling. He has to catch ‘Shi when he slithers into his hand, letting loose a jaw-cracking yawn for such a little creature.

“You seem sleepy, buddy.” Jesse cradles the little dragon. “Is he alright, Han?”

Hanzo steps closer and leans in to peer at Arashi. Jesse sees a slight frown twist his face.

“He is tired.”

Jesse snorts. “That’s obvious.”

Hanzo reaches over to pet his dragon, his fingertips grazing Jesse palm as he does. “Tired...and lonely.”

“What makes you say that?”

Hanzo remains silent for a long moment, hand dropping to his side. On either side of them are carved granite, the pass through the Ridgeback mountain hand carved long centuries ago.

“He had a brother,” Hanzo says softly. “Two dragons I cared for.”

The image of little twin dragonlings pops in his head, and Jesse smiles at the image. “What happened to him?”

“There was a fight, and they were separated.” Hanzo’s eye are downcast, his pace even with Jesse’s own. “His brother…. never came back.”

“I’m sorry.” Jesse gets the sense that the loss weighs heavy on his companion.

Hanzo sighs. “They are two halves of the same whole. Without his brother, Arashi cannot rest and I believe he will continue to weaken.”

 “If you want," Jesse isn't sure what motivates him to offer help, the words out of his mouth before he thinks. "After we're done here, I can help you look for your missing dragon.”

The elf pauses, blinking. He looks up, lips slightly parted, and glances again at Arashi, nestled in Jesse's hand.

“I...The dragon-" Hanzo swallows thickly, seeming to pause and gather himself. "I thank you. That means much to me.”

 

* * *

 

“This damn dragon is so set on heading East.” Jesse scuffs his boots against the carpet of frozen leaves. “I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I.” Hanzo knows his response sounds snappish, but as they've finally managed to catch up to Inazuma.

Equally parts frustration and fear have made Hanzo's mood foul. They had sighted Insseveral times today alone, each time a distant shape on the horizon. That had meant with several close brushes with Talon Hunters, and Jesse swears that Moira is in the area. They hadn't seen her, but the other man is sure. 

It was only a matter of time before the Inazuma was down. His flight was unsteady and he bore clear signs of injury in his scales. Hanzo isn't honestly sure how Ina was moving forward, every time he saw him the dragon looked worse. 

Speaking of, the familiar crackle hisses in above them.

"There it is!" Jesse whips around, hand going for his crossbow, but Hanzo places his hand on the arm and forces him to lower it.

“Wait-” He hisses, his breath clouding the air in front of him.

Jesse frowns but lowers his weapon. “ Hanzo, that was the best damn shot we’ve had yet-”

"We're too exposed." He says, which is true. From the ridge across from them, there is a twang of a longbow, black arrow snaking through the air. The dragon manages to twist out of the way, Widowmaker’s shot glancing off his hide. The drow was less than a quarter mile from them, and she would have no qualms turning her weapon on them as well. At least, that's what he tells Jesse.

“Fuck, they are close.” Jesse spits. “Man, this just can’t be easy, can it?”

Inazuma disappears once more, flying low among evergreen treetops, deeper into the vale. For the hundredth time in five days, Hanzo considers telling Jesse the truth. 

* * *

 

Jesse shields his eye with his hand, looking towards where the dragon had gone. They were so close, and if he'd been alone that was a shot he definitely would have taken. 

“McCree…”Hanzo paces nervously next to him, Arashi sitting upright on his shoulder. “What if I asked you…”

“Yeah?” Jesse says, trying to scan the opposite hillside. They weren’t currently exposed, but with her bow Widow outranged them. Hanzo’s weapon was a recurve, and at this distance not much of match. His own crossbow had far more punch but the range compared to either was laughable. “I’m sorry, what were you asking?”

“The dragon,” Hanzo starts to say, his look curiously desperate."The dragon we're hunting, that-"

Further into the vale, the sky turns purple, and the pained shriek of the dragon echoes through the trees. It burst from the canopy, climbing upward, heavy laden chains wrapped around it’s form. They watch it crane skyward, clearly struggling. Scales fall like bits of crystal in the air around it.

It turns, doubling back and heading towards them, mouth open in a silent roar. 

For a moment it looks as it might break free-then the dragon crumples, crashing down to earth. Trees are shattered as it lands, throwing branches and dust into the air. It’s not more than a half mile away, down at the lowest point of the vale.

“Shit, they got him” Jesse bites his lip. “Come on, maybe we can get their first-”

Hanzo is already moving, a blur down the cliffside, far faster than Jesse could ever hope to move.

“Goddammit, Hanzo!” Jesse curses, stumbling after him. “Wait! We don’t know who’s out here!”

Pushing through brush and trees, he follows behind Hanzo to where the dragon has fallen. With how it had landed they were closer than the Talon  Hunters, but Jesse knows they won’t be so lucky for long. The dragon weakly twists against the bonds, heavy ropes embedded with hooks that tear into it’s skin. Jesse can hear it’s pained whine and he feels a pang of sympathy for the creature- it’s why he preferred his crossbow to the traps. He killed them instantly. Hanzo is standing close to it now, and the dragon’s eye, gold and fierce, is on him. It lets loose a rumbling growl.

 _“Inazuma.”_ Hanzo says the word softly, and Jesse isn’t sure he was meant to overhear. “I am sorry.”

“Put him out of his misery, Hanzo.” Jesse sighs. “Make it quick.”

Hanzo unsheathes his long knife, stepping just under the forearm of the trapped dragon. He places his hand on the animal’s scales, just above where the heart would be. Arashi, the little dragonling, crawls down till his nose it touching above where Hanzo’s hand lay.

The larger animal whines, blood trickling down from it’s snout and into the torn ground beside it.

“Hanzo-” Jesse prods again. It was cruel to draw out the dragon’s suffering. "I can do it if you can't."

Hanzo shoots his a look, a mix of anger, fear, and frustration. His knife flashes and he starts to cut the rope.

“Hanzo!” Jesse yells, grabbing for his own crossbow. “What are you-”

“Stay back, Jesse. You don’t understand.” Hanzo snarls, teeth bared. “You don’t understand-”

The realization hits him like a sled full of bricks. Arashi, blue and translucent, a gold ridge of fur down his back- a smaller version of the beast in front of him.

 _There was a brother_.

 _Inazuma_. That was his _name._

“Fuck it. Fuck you. Fuck me.” Jesse slams the bolt back into the quiver, shaking his head. “You asshole, why didn’t you just tell me this was your dragon?!”

Hanzo keeps cutting. Inazuma, sensing freedom thrashes against the netting, frantic movements throwing debris into the air.

“I didn’t know how far I could trust you.”

“ Hey, if you remember we had a _‘saved-each-others-lives’_ kinda thing going on, so I kinda figured trust was implied?” Jesse paces, glaring out at the woods around them. He doesn’t see Talon yet, but they had to be close. “You could have told me that he was your pet, even if it’s a hugely dangerously destructive monster.”

Hanzo’s stance becomes defensive, and he faces Jesse fully. “You will _not_ hurt him.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Jesse snaps. “What happens when he’s free?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why he won’t come back to me.” Hanzo says, and Jesse can hear the note of panic. “Something is wrong, I don’t know why he keeps refusing me.”

“You can’t let him die.”

"No." Hanzo’s reply is deadly serious, and he points the knife clearly at Jesse.“I won't let anyone destroy him.”

Jesse sighs. This was a mess, and he was Hunter- killing dragons was his job. He looks once more at the trapped creature, scales shimmering blue in the light. Well, Gabe did always say that Jesse was good at adapting. He sighs and offers a prayer to a deity he doesn’t even believe in.

_Always did have a soft spot._

“Hanzo, move, I’m going to help. What do you need me to do?”

Together they work to free Inazuma. Arashi flickers nervously between them, trilling nonstop. Thankfully, for the most part, Inazuma lies still. Hanzo talks in hushed elvish as he works, words Jesse assumes are meant to be soothing.

A third rope is cut, then a fourth and fifth. Jesse starts on another wrapped around Inazuma’s back limb. The dragon sense freedom-he pulls forward, letting loose an ear-shattering roar that almost causes Jesse to lose his knife. The remaining ropes snap taut, knocking them both to the ground, the dragon growls again.

“You sure he won’t eat us?” Jesse says, getting back on his feet. “He don’t look none too happy to see you.”

The dragon’s claws are gouging deep troughs in the dirt, straining against the ropes. Hanzo is already back to cutting, no time for Jesse’s nervous banter.

He moves to start cutting again, but a sense of dark magic pulses in his eye.

"Aw _hell_." Jesse sheathes his knife, grabbing his crossbow instead. "Better hurry Han, we have company.”

Darkness blooms in front of them both, heralding Moira’s arrival. Her hand is held aloft and dark magic pools at her fingertips, warping tendrils on her arm. She is alone in the clearing, but her lack of caution can only mean that the drow is nearby.

“Deadeye.” Moira says. “I suggest you step away from the dragon if you at all value your life.”

“Nah.” He slips a bolt into his crossbow, ratcheting back the string. “That’s not happening. One move and you die.”

Her chin tilts a fraction of an inch, one eyebrow raised as she studies the scene in front of her. “Are you choosing to protect that creature now?”

He grins wide to hide his own trepidation. “Just making sure you’re grimy hands don’t touch it.”

“What a pity.” Moira folds her arms behind her back. “I was told you were smarter than this.”

“Sorry, someone told you wrong.”

“Now who was that told me?” She brings her hands forward again, finger tapping on the edge of her lip. “Was it...Reaper? Ah, yes. It was. You know, last time I saw him he didn't look to well. Almost like he was falling apart."

Behind him, there’s an audible snap as Hanzo shears his rope, and Inazuma takes flight in a burst of electric energy. Wind buffets Jesse’s back, clock whipping around his legs. Hanzo yells, saying something he can quite make out.

Jesse is seeing red. Deep within his core, the demon that gifted him Deadeye is called forth, and it wants death.

Moira teleports forward, but this time he’s ready for her. She reappears, trying to dodge around him, trying to get to Hanzo. 

His crossbow bolt takes her in the chest, jolting her off her feet. She stumbles and disappears again.

“Jesse!” From behind him, Hanzo cries out, and just as the day they first crossed paths he is tackled by five foot two of surprisingly solid elf. Above his head a black arrow flies, whistling from the trees.

Hanzo recovers first, rolling back to his feet, his own bow in hand. “Ina’s gone.”

Jesse stands next to him, own weapon coming to bear. No targets are in his vision, no magic tugs at his senses. 

“Sorry I didn’t know sooner.” He says, searching for any sort of movement.

Around them, the forest is deathly silent.

“I should have told you sooner.” Hanzo’s back is pressed to his own, mirroring Jesse’s searching movements. Arashi holds tight to his armor, wrapped around his master's waist. "But thank you, Jesse."

A sharp crack makes them both spin; Moira burst from shadow again, hands outstretched and dark magic reaching forward. 

Behind _her_ , Inazuma lands with a crash, elemental energy exploding outward in a powerful burst. The dragon roars, heart-stoppingly loud, shaking trees around them. 

“Ina!” Hanzo recovers first, and Arashi darts forward to his brother’s side. “Have you come back?!”

The two dragon’s noses touch, and blue, shockingly blue light shines over Hanzo's bow arm, spiraling down from shoulder to fingertips. Ina rumbles, a larger version of Arashi's trill.  Jesse’s jaw drops as Arashi shifts and grows. In moments stand two dragons in the clearing, equally huge, and equally mad.

Sharp tendrils of agony seep into his muscles. Moira is on her hands and knees, one hand clawlike and dripping magic, the other wrapped around the crossbow bolt in his side. Her face is set in a grimace.

“That was rather painful, _Deadeye_.” She hisses. “Let’s not do that again.”

He hears Hanzo’s bow draw. “Let him go, witch.”

“I think not.” She grips the bolt, then pulls hard. It comes free with a sucking pop, and she flings it aside. “Attack me and Widow puts an arrow through your heart.”

Jesse grits his teeth, desperately calling for his own demon, trying to lift his crossbow. Her tendrils make the weapon feel as if it's made of lead. 

She stands, and an orb of that same inky blackness appears next to her. "I will make this hurt."

In the distance, a different roar splits the night. Jesse manages to turn his head, enough to see flashes of green appearing through the trees, almost to fast to track.

They hear the drow yell, a weapon swing, and the limb of a longbow comes spinning into the clearing. It sticks upright in the dirt, still vibrating from the force of its flight.

Hanzo yells what sounds like a spell, loosing his arrow- and Jesse gasps as the two dragons follow. The arrow flies about his head, then both Inazuma and Arashi, all teeth and claws and passing through him like a warm wave.

Moira isn’t quite so lucky. Her scream is pained, her hold on him falters. The dragons wrap around her in a blaze of energy. Jesse props himself up on his elbows, watching in mute fascination.

Her teeth are bared, surrounded in a storm of dragon magic, Moira stares him down. Her lips move, her hands wrapping around her lanky torso- and then in a black cloud, she disappears again. Arashi and Inazuma fade too, wrapping around one another till they become lost to sight.

Jesse lets his head drop back into the dirt, muscles like water.

“McCree! Jesse-” Hanzo dashes to him, kneeling at his side, grabbing his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

He waves him off, weakly, too tired to open his eye. “I’m good, just need a minute.”

Next to him, he hears a trill, and he blindly reaches to pet the dragonling. “Thanks, bud.”

A second trill on the other side surprises him, and he feels another scaly nose at his cheek. Looking over, a slightly darker creature, horns broken and scarred scales.  Inazuma. “Thank you, too.”

“What’s this?” A new voice, male, tone mocking, calls out. Jesse struggles to sit up, first instinct to go for his crossbow. The two dragonlings don't seem alarmed, though, instead both climbing to sit on his chest, so Jesse relaxes. 

The new person is wearing scale mail armor, a blue insignia emblazoned on his chest. His helmet sports a white crest, the faceplate decorated to look like a tiger. “Has Hanzo made friends?”

Jesse glances at Hanzo. His companion is staring, eyes wide. His lips twitch but no words come out.

The stranger laughs. “Inazuma found me. Tsūretsu was quite happy to see him.”

From behind the man’s helm, familiar sized green dragonling chirps.

“Hanzo…” Jesse is growing concerned as Hanzo continues to stare. 

Hanzo, slowly, unsteadily, pushes himself to his feet. “Genji?” His voice is hesitant, as if he's afraid what he sees will disappear.

The man bows his head, then removes his helmet in one smooth move. Jesse sees only one long ear- a thick scar over face and neck seems to have removed the other-but more shocking is the bright green hair.

Genji smiles, grin lopsided. “The one and only.”

Hanzo stumbles forward and throws his arms around the other man’s shoulders. Arashi and Ina, still nestled on top of Jesse chirp happily, and Jesse realizes he can hear Hanzo crying.

“This is a little awkward, right?” He whispers to them. "Not just me, is it?"

Arashi trills, his claws flexing into Jesse shirt like he’s kneading bread. Inazuma rests his head on his brother, eyes sliding closed.

“Jesse-” Hanzo has his arm wrapped around the other man’s shoulder, and he’s wearing a real grin, the first one Jesse can remember seeing in their weeks of travel together. Tears are in his eyes, with his other hand he surreptitiously wipes them away.“This-this is my brother.”


End file.
